


Alive

by MIA777



Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 15:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13126104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MIA777/pseuds/MIA777
Summary: I'm sorry for rubbish English and not very positive story, but I guess it will turn out into something with a happy end. Thanks for reading this, I appreciate it!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for rubbish English and not very positive story, but I guess it will turn out into something with a happy end. Thanks for reading this, I appreciate it!

* * *

* * *

Woke up on the cold floor in my own vomit and with whiskey bottles surrounding me, somewhere after midday, somehow still alive and as far as I know, mostly in one piece. I hate whiskey. Hell knows where I am and am I alone in this god forsaken place. Fuck it. I need a shower and a cigarette. And my phone, if nobody stole it, to find where I am and how to find way back home, call a cab or something. But first I must stop staring at the perfectly white ceiling above my heavy head to find my home. Hah, home. Do I have one? Not so sure anymore. But back then I had one, cosy and lovely home with my family and so many great moments, photos and kids artworks on the refrigerator. Artworks was bad, but I loves this colourful drawings anyway, because my children did them. I remember Christmas and a Christmas tree with big gold star on the top, and beautiful faces in the morning, when kids tore apart their presents. I remember my wife's tiny and fragile hand in mine, when my beloved mother passed away, and only her presence could fix my broken heart. And it does. Because of her hand in mine. Her eyes .. when I looked into her blue oceans, filled with pure love, I was the most powerful man on earth. And now only ghostly memories left. I tried to catch them, to collect all my transparent memories and save them till the day I die, but sadly, they all leaves me. As everything and everyone else, alone. I'm weak and vulnerable, because there are no eyes to look into. I have nowhere to go. I'm lost.

I got up, eventually, but I don't want to. I want to lie down, close my red, tired eyes and fall asleep for about eternity, take a break from this huge viscous gap inside my soul.  
Who am I? Where I belong? My guiding star extinguished forever and blue sky went dark and fall on my shoulders. I wasn't prepared, nobody else ever was.

I took a shower to wash away my pain but it wasn't working well. My phone was ringing and I ignored it. It does it again, and again, while I was smoking my last cigarette. I picked it up and thoughtfully watched the name on a display. It said 'Richard' and I pressed the button to turn my phone off. I don't want to talk about it. Not now, not ever. Obviously he cares, as many others, and I'm a selfish bastard, but I can't find any strength to take myself through this call. I want him to know that I'm sorry, but I can't even text that to him, because I can't take it. Too much pain for one person.  
One day I met a guy who sold me drugs, he told that it gonna help me out. I don't believed him back than, but now I do, guy knows his business, drugs helps more than anything I ever tried before. And so I reached the bottom: I was mired in cocaine, alcohol and loneliness. And all this is unacceptable to me, but I can do nothing, I can not change my life today. More precisely, my present existence.

  

 

* * *

 

 

'Open the fucking door, Clarkson!'  
That was Richard, furiously kicking his door.  
' Don't try me, Clarkson! I gonna punch you in your stupid face!'  
He was yelling and that was pretty annoying, because he is ruining peaceful evening in all Oxfordshire at once.  
Well, there is only one option to stop the little furious creature from damaging my  front door. Not that I cares about my front door or about anything else, but this is frustrating and anyway, I'm already on drugs so why not let Richard in for a little party?  
'It wasn't closed actually, could just break the handle, and not break my door off the hinges, Rich.'  
Richard was shocked, I didn't think that he really believed that he could do his way into my house today, and even I can't believe in this. So many time passed, I can't believe that he still cares about his broken mate.  
'Clarkson..'. He obviously was speechless, and uncharacteristically he hugged me too tightly and I hugged him back, I felt how tightly his hands clenched my body, how he trembled, and I was afraid that he was crying. I so rarely saw him that way, usually it's his name, who brought everyone around to such a state when he broke up and miraculously survived. I stood and hugged him, inhaling the smell of his hair, which I thought I forgot. Time has passed, but he is still my closest friend and I will always love him. I put my head in his hair and could not resist, I began to cry, all my emotions went crazy and I embraced Richard tighter. I missed him, I thought that after all this he would leave me, but no. He is here. And I cry like a fool.  
We broke apart after a very long moment, and I saw that Richard's face was wet with tears.  
'Come in, Rich'

 

He sat on the couch in front of me. We were close, and so far away at the same time.  
'I'm sorry.'  
'Me too, Rich. I am selfish piece of shit, but I can't help it.'  
' Nothing to be sorry for, Jeremy. After all you lost your..'  
He stopped himself, but I know what he was talking about. We all know, just do not want to say it out loud.  
'I'm sorry, Jeremy..'  
I watched his face, especially when he saw my credit card and some white powder on my coffee table.  
'Is it..?'  
He asked carefully, pointing at it, lifting his huge eyes to look into mine, trying to find answers without words.  
I don't want to apologise and don't want him to leave me.  
'It is.'  
That was my short answer. Nothing to add. We both already know it.  
He sighed heavily, and closed his eyes.  
Nothing to add, isn't it?  
'Why you don't ask for help?' Richard is looking at his eyes again, watching his soul and everything he ever has inside himself.  
'What's the point to help someone who is hopeless? Total waste of time.'  
'I'm your friend, I'm always here for you, just let me help you.'  
That's hurts. I know that, just don't want you to be involved in my shit, Rich, only because you are my friend. I need you to be happy, not always in grief because of me. I'm selfish, but not so selfish. And I know that you know that too.

  
'I'm sorry.'


	2. It's gonna be a bright sun-shining day.

I can't remember how I fell asleep that night, can't even remember what happened and why my headache is so horrible, but I smelled coffee, painfully familiar smell of coffee in the mornings, when my wife did it for us, knowing that in the morning I am especially nasty. I'm probably still asleep, or maybe dead. I'd rather be dead, honestly, it's too painful to open eyes, because this is an illusion, another deception of my sick mind. I will open my eyes, and there will be an acid-white ceiling, which burns out the retina, as it always does. And me alone, in an empty house, built for happiness many years ago, but right now I'm here burning the last years of my life, aimlessly and painfully long. I took all my strength and opened my eyes, that movement hit my head hard and for one second everything goes black. I felt sick, and then who knows from where and why, I felt that something warm touched my head lightly, something else holt my body still. Huh, maybe angel came to save my fallen soul and reconnect it with my loved ones. I opened eyes again, this time was much better, and I saw this huge, alive dark brown eyes opposite mine, once blue and full of life, but now lifelessly grey and broken. He looked at me, and he's definitely not an angel, fortunately or unfortunately, I can't choose. Also I can't hear his voice, but I think he is trying to call my name and bring me back from whatever it is. I'm not afraid.

Richard is such a great man, such a good friend. I'm not deserve his friendship, not deserve his time.

'Jeremy, talk to me, please!' I'm started to hear not just strange noises and thoughts inside my sick head, but I started to hear him and I was glad to hear his voice again. Maybe he is an angel who brings me back to life, huh?

'Jeremy! Don't you dare die, you idiot!' That was almost tears in his eyes, and I touched his hand with mine.

'Shh..I'm here' I was weak, tried to overcome it. So many emotions in his eyes, from fear to relief, and this is mixed with tears and hope. Emotions are at the limit, so are mine, and his, and he just hugged me, expectingly unexpectedly, squeezing tightly, as tight as he could, with no unnecessary words. Just simple human contact that has a power to change the world. I stroked his hair and felt warmth, which I did not feel for so long.

Years passed and he did not forget me, an old and pitiful old man, lonely and helpless, without family and friends, locked up in a huge house, without a single living soul in it. It was so nice to feel warm and closeness of someone's body, that I lost all sense of time.

'Rich, I'm fine.' I released my embrace and looked around, everything is.. cleaner and clearer, and there is no empty bottles on the floor, no previous mess and ashes from smoked cigarettes throughout the table, only a cup of fresh coffee. He made me a cup of coffee. A normal cup of coffee, in a normal clean cup. Am I dead?

'Jeremy, give me a sec, I'm going to make a breakfast'

'No food anywhere.'

'I already bought everything. And did my jogging. And took a shower.'

'How on earth, it's only.. er, what time is it?'

'Twelve, sleeping beauty, stand up, brush your teeth and take a shower, and please, find some clean clothes, this particular outfit stinks.'

'I'm not going upstairs.'

'Because of..?' His voice was careful.

'Yes.'

'And you never get upstairs since..?'

'Never.'

I felt like shit at this very moment, all memories felt on me and I can't do nothing. Just watched floor and never Richard.

'Can you get up and bring me something from the wardrobe? It's second room from main bedroom. Please.'

I lifted my eyes and catch Richards worrying gaze, full of sorrow and grief. That is the reason why I don't want him here, I don't want to watch him like that, so lost and broken because of me. He's not belong to this depressing story of some too self-assured, old and silly man from a car show. Funny, but even every single paparazzi left my front door only after a half a year after that day. No one cared after a year, and now? After five years? No one even remembers that arrogant guy from a silly car show.

 

 

'Breaking news: BBC Top Gear Jeremy Clarkson's family was killed in a horrible car accident on a...'

'Jeremy, hey, wake up, everything is fine, I'm here, hey..'

I was crying, as always after my nightmares. That was a important reason why I drank a lot, and that's why. When I'm sober I always have nightmares, and when I'm drunk, I don't. No wander I am an alcoholic.


	3. I can see clearly now the rain is gone.

Time passed, I stopped drinking, stopped taking drugs from the evening when I let Richard into my house, I even stopped smoking. Richard persuaded me to move to another house, a nice mansion in Scotland, which he bought many years ago, but almost never been there. It was wonderful there, we often went with him on the picturesque and probably the most beautiful expanses of Scotland. We watched stupid movies on TV, played a monopoly and ate what we were cooking. When I say we, I mean myself, Richard is preparing complete shit. And constantly leaves spare parts from the millions of his stupid motorcycles everywhere, and I stumble over them again and again. A little asshole. My life began to get better, I began to laugh, as it had been a long time ago, pure, loud and more importantly, sincere and real. Life began to acquire color, I began to feel something except pain and sorrow.  
Everything seems easier after I let Richard in my life. It always was easier and brighter and happier with him. Seems like life has a point, and that I'm not alone anymore. He smile and everything lit up with sunshine. As it always does. He helped me to begin to live again, to enjoy my life, to believe in myself, he told me that I could take my life under control and he was right, I did, with his belief. He said that while my love for my family lives in my heart, they are alive. And I should remember them, and I will, and I will never forget my love for them. No matter what happens, I will always love them and they are always in my heart, in a very special place.  
He said that I should be strong for my loved ones, that I should live further for them, and not kill myself in alcohol and drugs. I must live, love and dream. For their sake. He said that I should take control of life, that I should control it, and not drown in this stream of shit, in which I swam for more than five years. He said that I should not put an end to myself, that in this world there is something for which it is worth living. When I asked him what is it, he responded so trivially simply, so easily and at the same time so brilliant.    
'For the sake of love, Jeremy. That's what it's worth living for.'

 

 

After one of my sober uncountable nightmares I was as always crying and Richard just came to my bed and lay down next to me under the duvet, hugging me tight, letting me know that I'm not alone in this world, and in that night he he touched my face wet from tears and tenderly, almost weightlessly began to kiss my forehead, my cheeks, until I stopped crying and fell asleep with his strong arms around me. And he hold me through the night, and that was the best sleep I had in many many years.

In the morning I woke up with his messy brown hair all over my chest and I looked at him, really looked at the man lying on my chest. He saved me from pain, from loneliness, drugs and alcohol, from complete self-destruction and from the main enemy—from myself. He helped me see the world again, see the endless blue sky and this especially green color of British grass. He helped me feel the warmth of the sun and the smell of freshly baked apple pie. He helped me to find the meaning of life, he helped me to love. He brought life into my life when I thought I never going to live again. Perhaps this man who now is here, lying peacefully on my chest in my bed is my angel, who was by my side for decades and even after I told him to get out and leave me alone, after all these long years of loneliness, he came again, at the worst moment of my life, and saved my fallen soul.  
I smiled at my thought without noticing it myself and embraced his small body, with such tremendous and radiant kindness inside. The curtains swayed softly from side to side from the light wind, the spring freshness and the singing of Scottish birds came from the window, the tender sun shyly lit up Richard's face with gold, and I thought that it is such a great day. With him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, my little story is over. I apologize in advance for such a terrible topic as death and loss of loved ones, but this has nothing to do with real people, just a little story. Thanks to everyone who has read this, thank you for forgiving my spooky English and my mistakes. Love your loved ones, take care of them, my dear. All the best to you.


End file.
